


those nice bright colors

by DuendeJunior



Series: the domesticity blues [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, but like two or three lines of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 19:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10951215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuendeJunior/pseuds/DuendeJunior
Summary: This is what theyshouldbe doing: organizing the closet.And this is what they'reactuallydoing: looking at proof that Victor wore braces, once upon a time.





	those nice bright colors

**Author's Note:**

> this happened because the image of young Victor wearing braces (and anime merchadising. thanks @ everyone on my twitter feed who agrees Victor (is) was into Naruto) didn't want to leave me alone. chronologically, this comes right after the penultimate section of "the moving process".
> 
> title from Paul Simon's _Kodachrome_ (the temptation to put Nickelback instead was very strong)

This is what they should be doing: organizing the closet. Yuuri's books have found their way to the shelves, and his CDs sit on the TV stand, but his socks and underwear still need somewhere else to live aside from the sports bag they're crammed into - to say nothing of the rest of his clothes.

And for half an hour, that's precisely what they do, with Victor opening drawers and sorting out things and Yuuri filling reusable bags with them. They manage to find two free drawers and fill them with Yuuri's undergarments and socks, and clear a third one for his shirts, even if Yuuri can't help but feel uneasy watching Victor dump his wool socks somewhere else to make way for his stuff.

But then, Yuuri unearths a burgundy photo album from underneath a stack of "Happy Birthday" cards, which marks the shift from what they _should_ be doing to what they're _actually_ doing right now: looking at proof that Victor wore braces, once upon a time.

Or, more specifically, Yuuri is the one looking at it; the first time anyone whose surname isn't Nikiforov or Feltsman sees these pictures.

That section doesn't have as many pictures as the previous ones - there are twenty pages for Victor's seventh year alone; this part has only two -, but each and every one of them is a treasure, in Yuuri’s humble opinion.

"I thought Mama had kept those for herself", Victor groans, head buried in Yuuri's shoulder and an arm around his waist. They're sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch.

"How old were you here?", Yuuri asks, taking one of the pictures from its plastic pocket. He recognizes the shoulder-length haircut from the only photoshoot Victor did during his hiatus - that lull between his long-haired phase and the short style he's been wearing ever since -, but he's not ready yet to divulge just how close an eye he kept on Victor's... everything back when he was but a simple fan.

Victor cracks an eye open and turns his head slightly to check. "... Nineteen? Or maybe twenty?" He squints. "But these are from before I moved to ceramic braces, so nineteen, I guess."

Yuuri adjusts his glasses, and keeps staring at the picture. At nineteen-year-old Victor, bathed in the light of the spring sun and sporting a shy smile dotted by green metal brackets, a peace sign and what looks like a Naruto headband.

Meanwhile, twenty-eight-year-old Victor keeps making indignant sounds.

"Who even let me out of the house looking like that", he says, muffled against Yuuri's shoulder.

Yuuri is doing an herculean effort to keep from cooing over both picture and fiancée.

It's not even _fair_. Like. Yuuri wore braces when he was fourteen, and he knows he looked like a dweeb, his mother and Yuuko's opinions notwithstanding. Not that Victor doesn't look like a dweeb in his pics, but on him it's _charming_ and _heart meltingly cute_. He wants to cover present Victor in kisses, and then go back in time and do the same to past Victor.

"Has...", Yuuri starts, and his voice comes out a bit high-pitched. He clears his throat. "Has your mother ever asked for the album back?"

"Hmm", Victor says. "Come to think of it, she wanted some copies done."

Yuuri considers for ten seconds the possibility of fighting Yulia Konstantinovna Nikiforova herself for those pictures in case she ever decides she's done waiting for her son to get her copies.

He turns and press a kiss against the whorl in Victor's hair. "Why don't we scan them? Then we can keep the digital ones and send her the album. We'd be saving space." He starts to falter. "Or vice-versa. It's your call. These are your photographs, anyway."

Victor "hmm"s again.

"Good idea", he says. "But if we scan them there's always the risk of someone hacking my laptop and, I don't know, leaking them."

Yuuri raises his eyebrows in surprise. He's used to be the one bringing up the concerns, not the one listening to them. But it makes sense - everything the world at large knows and sees of Victor is carefully selected by him (or Yakov). Yuuri knows firsthand the level of control Victor has over his own image. And what's meant to be private, be it good or ill, is kept private by all means.

Now Yuuri feels the need to pause and consider the possibility of fighting _hackers_ for Victor's pictures. It wouldn't be the first ridiculous thing he does for this man, at least.

"Although", Victor says before Yuuri can form any sensible comment. "I still have the pictures from the Sochi banquet on my phone and nothing's happened yet." He hums again, hugs Yuuri tighter. "Yeah, we can scan them. Mama's going to be happy to get her blackmail material back."

Yuuri snorts.

"I don't think she sees it as blackmail material but yeah, she'll be happy", he says.

"You haven't seen her in action yet", Victor pouts. Then he takes a deep breath and says, voice soft, "but you will, one of these days."

Yuuri purses his lips. That does sound like Victor wants him to stay a while.

_But the real question here is "how long", isn't it?_ , that same old voice in his mind says. It's pathetic how scared he is of finding out.

He presses another kiss to Victor's hair in lieu of answering.

(They give up on the closet task to set up the scanner, after that.)


End file.
